


worse things

by epicmoonintensifies



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27084913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epicmoonintensifies/pseuds/epicmoonintensifies
Summary: Sentence Prompt: "Worse things have happened.  I can’t think of anything specific right now because I’m distracted by how bad this particular situation is, but I’m sure worse things have happened. Genocide, for example.“This is just about the limit of what Qrow can do to get himself a date. Literally. If he pushes this limit, he might die.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	worse things

There was too much blood and nothing more you could do.

You had already staunched the wound and made a tie to keep good pressure. You had calmed Qrow down, slowing his heartbeat into that safer, fast-enough-to-keep-him-alive-and-slow-enough-to-keep-him-from-pumping-all-the-blood-out-of-his-own-body zone. You had defeated each and every Grimm, slashing them into ashes.

Now you could only wait.

Qrow couldn’t be moved. At least, not by you. Picking him up and carrying him could open the wound further, or… well, you weren’t sure how deep that wound _was_. Moving him might kill him. He needed professional medical help that you couldn’t give. Letting him stay on the hard ground was the best you could do for him on that front. So you set your scroll up to send out a top priority emergency signal, _and you waited_.

“S'bad,” Qrow rasped softly to you, voice slurring with fatigue caused by blood-loss. There was blood on his lips. You hoped it was from that cut on his bottom lip and _not_ from internal bleeding, but you couldn’t tell. He wasn’t coughing or gagging, though, so that was… good.

You curled up next to him on the ground, sharing body heat in an effort to give his system one less task to work for. (Would that even work? You didn’t know.) And maybe because you didn’t know what else to do. You couldn’t just stand to the side while he was like this. And you had always sort of wanted to… well. Maybe now wasn’t the most appropriate time for those thoughts.

He tilted his head to rest against you and you sighed.

Qrow was not your boyfriend. He flirted, yes, and you playfully flirted back just to be in on the joke, but that was all it was. A joke. A mutual tease, like a game. You were pretty sure that he couldn't be serious. He didn’t seem like the serious type. He seemed like the drunk, overly flirtatious type. The type that was nice to look at and fun to flirt with, but nothing more. You wished, you really wished, that he wasn’t that type.

“Yeah, it’s bad. But **worse things have happened.“** You assured him, only to realize that that hadn’t sounded very reassuring at all. **”** Um… **I can’t think of anything specific right now because I’m distracted by how bad this particular situation is, but I’m _sure_ worse things have happened.“**

He cracked one eye open to squint at you dubiously. "Like wha?”

You mulled over it for a moment and found yourself left with a very short list of things that measured up to how bad this situation felt.

**“Genocide, for example,”** you settled with.

” _Ehe_.“ The eye closed again and his blood-touched lips quirked into something that was almost a smile. "Y'not wrong.”

“ _Hey_.” You shifted closer, setting one hand over his bandaged chest to make sure the pressure was remaining steady and none of your knots had come loose. "You’re not allowed to die here, Qrow. Ozpin won’t forgive me if you die on my watch. Ever. I can’t deal with Ozpin not forgiving me, so you need to toughen up and get home, okay?“

He made a wheezing sound that might have been laughter or an exclamation of pain. You honestly couldn’t tell.

"Wha'ya gimme f'I live?” he asked. He really did smile this time. It was beautiful and bloody.

“A reward? For living?" For him to live was well worth anything he would ask of you. Not that you thought offering a reward would keep him alive, but it might keep him awake for a little while longer, and you were afraid to let him fall asleep. "Anything you want that doesn’t involve alcohol.”

Qrow didn’t even stop to consider the many possibilities before he gave you an answer.

“You-” He pointed at you weakly (more accurately, his finger kind of twitched in your direction), then tapped himself on the chest. “-n'me. Date.”

You brain stalled for a moment.

No _way._

“A date?” you echoed, incredulous. Had Qrow Branwen, totally out of his gourd and bleeding all over the place while snuggling you, just asked you out? “I say you can have anything you want and you ask for a date?”

“Yeah.” Qrow swallowed thickly. His eyes opened again, but he averted them, not looking directly at you. If he were standing, he probably would have been staring at his own shoes. "Been meanin’ t'ask…“

Okay. _Yes_ way, apparently. Very much way.

"I didn’t think you were the dating type,” you admitted, hoping that didn’t come off as rude to the guy who had just used his literal dying wish to ask you out.

And maybe it _did_ come off that way, because Qrow cringed and didn’t look at you _at all_.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” you rushed to explain. "You just surprised me. I’ll go out with you.“

He glared at you weakly, his mouth straining downwards into an upset grimace. "No _pity_.”

“What? No, I-” _Pity?_ You wanted to laugh almost as much as you wanted to smack him for being so stupid. He thought you were offering him a _pity date_? Could he be any more _wrong_? “It’s not pity, Qrow. I want to. I just never thought you’d ask.”

_Never thought you’d ask **me**. Or anyone._

And at that thought, you had to brace yourself, because Qrow Branwen had a reputation. He was notoriously drunk and unattached. Both of these things were true, as far as you had seen. Qrow didn’t seem…

Qrow didn’t _seem_.

Well, what did it matter, what he _seemed_ like, or what he didn’t? He just asked you out on a date. Qrow Branwen, in danger of dying after fighting off Grimm by your side, had just asked you out on a date, which he had apparently been meaning to do anyway, and he had been _hurt_ when he thought you didn’t want him. Obviously, what he _seemed_ like and what he _was_ were two very different things, and only one of them was a reality.

“I’m glad you asked,” you said, not to be reassuring, but to tell the truth. “I just thought you didn’t date.”

“I don’t.” That hurt look was fading. “Jus’ you.”

You had to smile at that. You weren’t sure if it was true or just Qrow being charming, but you sort of hoped it was true.

“You know how to make a girl feel good about herself,” you teased him, and if he hadn’t been bleeding all over the place, you would have elbowed him. As it was, you gently tapped him.

That wheezing sound again. Definitely laughter, as weak as it was.

“Three,” he said, looking pretty pleased with himself.

_Three?_ “Three what?”

“Dates.” That pleased look crumpled into something defeated. Qrow cast his eyes away, frowning slightly. "F'ya… don’ wan'me an'more aft'three… I’ll leave y'lone.“

Well.

That was just about the saddest thing you had ever heard.

"Why wouldn’t I want you after three?” you asked, not sure if you wanted to know the answer.

_Maybe_ , you thought, _maybe he was just trying to not let me feel pressured. Maybe he just wanted me to know he wouldn’t hound me if it doesn’t go well. He doesn’t want me to feel obligated. That’s really nice of him._

But you had the sinking feeling that all your maybes were wrong.

“Qrow,” you said again after a long stretch of silence. You hated how he wouldn’t look at you. "Why wouldn’t I want you after three?“

Qrow painfully heaved a hitching, scratchy sigh. "No'n does.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep, deliberate breath.

_Holy Oum._

_Holy **Oum**_ , what was _wrong_ with people? Had no one ever been decent to Qrow? Did relationships always fall apart so badly around him that he felt the need to clarify that he would leave you alone after three dates? Qrow Branwen, one of the most confident people you knew, was acting like a kicked puppy because he had been shy to ask you out on a date even though you offered him practically _anything he wanted_.

The bad luck thing probably didn’t help, you imagined. And, yeah, there was a good chance that failed relationship after failed relationship probably had something to do with Qrow himself, most likely his drinking habit, and the way he was constantly moving from place to place had to put a strain on things. But the way Qrow was acting was just _wrong_. Someone had _hurt_ him.

“I promise you at least _five,_ ” you said vehemently. _And if it doesn’t work out, I promise to treat you like a decent human being._ “And I’m pretty sure I’ll still want you after that.”

And Qrow _smiled_.

“Die h'py now,” he sighed, grinning. The blood couldn’t make him look any less delighted with what you had told him.

“Oh no you don’t,” you scolded him, pressing gently on his shoulder. “There will be no dying today, Mr. Branwen. You haven’t even kissed me yet.”

“Right.” Qrow’s smile eased, not pushing so harshly into his cheeks, but the intensity wasn’t lost. "Nee’t'do tha. No dy'n.“

_Well_ , you thought.

And then you leaned over and kissed the corner of his mouth.

"That’ll have to hold you over until then,” you said, heart thrumming.

Qrow took your hand in his and didn’t let go.


End file.
